Just
by wildegreenlight
Summary: On a late July night at The Burrow, Ron and Hermione discover that their signals aren't quite as crossed as they once thought.


It was late, too late really. She should have gone down to Ginny's room ages ago, but she just couldn't bear the thought of leaving, not quite yet.

Ron sat across from her on the worn rug, bending over a book, The soft glow of the lamp shone from behind him-around him. The warm halo of light made him look like a sunset, or a painting of a saint, _Patron Saint of Crossed Signals. _For a long moment a smile bunched her cheeks, and she could not tear her eyes away from him- abandoning her customary caution.

"You alright?" Ron had closed the book and was staring at her with an adorably furrowed brow.

"Oh! Yes...sorry...I was just," _yes, Hermione, please, do tell! What were you "just" doing? Just imagining how soft those little wisps of hair curling around his ears would feel? Just fighting the urge to crawl over there and snog the adorable off his face? _"Uhhh...thinking"

"Yeah." He definitely didn't doubt her answer, and honestly, he probably thought that she was thinking about all the things she _should _have been thinking about: Harry, Horcruxes...her parents.

_Her parents…_

Ron had been so, so...well, beyond words wonderful since she had shown up on his doorstep, a barely contained mess. It made her a little lightheaded just thinking about how tenderly he'd held her as she sobbed into the thin fabric of his t-shirt. It felt so _right_ to have him comfort her, reassure her. _How was it possible that he could make her feel so strong even at her weakest moments? _

It had really started with the funeral, now that she thought about it. After Dumbledore's death she knew that the time had come to put her "worst case scenario" plans into action, despite her fears over the sanity and morality of her idea. However, when she had finally told him about the new life she would make for the soon-to-be Wilkinses, his sincere support soothed her anxious nerves. Instead of trying to talk her out of it, or offering to shield her from it, he had listened and agreed and ultimately, best of all, trusted her judgement. That kind of faith in someone else was a rare thing, and she had just begun to appreciate it fully. More than anything, Hermione wanted to be worthy of his faith in her.

The silence settled between them as he concernedly studied her face. He gently placed the book beside him and scooted closer to her, taking the book she had been pretending to read and moving it next to his recently discarded one.

"Why don't we take a break, yeah?"

"Sure," she prayed that he would attribute the tremor in her voice to anything other than her distraction at his fingers brushing against hers.

"It's been ages since dinner, want me to go grab you a bite of something, a sandwich maybe?"

Something in the way he asked the question reminded her so much of Molly that she almost looked around for her. She smiled in spite of herself at the image of Ron, apron-clad, enthusiastically offering second servings to a boisterous table of copper-haired children.

"Not doubting my sandwich making skills are you? I'll have you know that I'm a genius with two slices of bread, and Mum's roast, of course."

Her smile became a chuckle, "I have no doubts...actually that's what I was thinking about just now."

"I knew it! I'll be back in a mo'," he started to get up, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No, don't go," his look grew worried, perhaps she had said it a bit too desperately, "I mean...I was thinking about...you...and well, your Mum...and how," she searched for the words to make him understand.

"Yeah, I know she's been right barmy lately. Wedding would have her a mess during the best of times, but pile on the extra dose of _mortal peril_ and it's like a billywig and a pixie had a very high-strung baby," he bumped her with his shoulder playfully.

"True, I don't think I've ever seen her so wound up before, but I was actually thinking about how good she is at looking after everyone, and well," she determinedly continued, afraid she might lose her nerve, "how good you have been about making sure I'm okay, about keeping me okay even when I know that it's hard for you too."

"Hermione," the playful look from mere seconds ago was replaced by something that she couldn't quite name, "I'm glad that you think I'm helping, you don't know how much I want to," he looked down at the floor, searching for the right words, "take care of you...well, not that I think that you can't take care of yourself...I mean...fuck, I am so bad at this, sorry."

She dipped her head slightly, drawing his eyes back to hers, "What exactly do you think you are so bad at?"

"Well obviously I'm bad at explaining what I mean, so that's one thing."

"Trust me, you are no worse at that than I am," he shook his head, but she continued, "not to mention that everyone has trouble with that sometimes. What else?"

"The 'making sure you're okay' part," he put up his hand to stop her automatic rebuttal, "you can't change my mind...I know we kinda agreed to just forget about it, but I can't."

_Oh._

She had not expected this. Not at all. They never did this. Once a row was sorted, or was at least adjacent to sorted, they never spoke of it again. Ever. She was instantly conflicted: did she have the courage to hear what he might say? The courage to say what she dreamed of saying?

"I was a shitty friend, there's no way around that. Even though you don't need me," his pause was so small that she almost missed it, "to look after you...you should at least be able to count on me not being a giant arse to you."

She knew that at least part of what he said was true; she wouldn't insult him with a lie, "How about we agree that we were both horrible friends," the word _friends_ left an odd taste in her mouth: _bet Bertie Botts doesn't have that one!_

"You were only horrible because I was more horrible."

"It's not a competition, Ron," she tried to use humor to lighten the intensifying mood, but his look of earnestness did not fade. "Seriously, you can't take all the blame, I was just as much at fault."

"I should've never let it go that far."

_Let what get that far, exactly? Their argument? His relationship with Lavender? _She didn't want it to matter to her which he meant, she had worked so hard to be mature about it, but she couldn't deny exactly what her preference really was.

"Well, it's not like you were the only one," her whole body strained forward, desperate to consume the last few centimeters between them.

Since his poisoning they had been like two people trying to cross a frozen lake, unsure if the surface would hold, fearful of what lie beneath. Each step they took was tentative, always listening for the telltale crackling sound. She had learned to look for weak spots, and steer clear of them. But now...were they pushing their luck?

"Sorry, I don't...I just...want you to know that I'm trying to do better...to be better."

"You are," before she could talk herself out of it, she reached out and placed her hand on his knee, "there is no way I could have gotten through the last few weeks without you."

Covering her hand with his own, he continued in a more confident voice, "You would've though... you can do anything you put your mind to...but I do want to make it easier for you if I can. I know what it's like to be worried about your family...to want to protect them."

"And you are! We both are...just in different ways," she made no attempt to move her hand.

"Yeah, but in the same way too," when she looked puzzled, he continued, "you know...by helping Harry end this."

That was it wasn't it? In the end, they had to get it right, so that they would all be safe.

"Ron, I'm scared. What if I...what if we are in over our heads? I mean, we have so little to go on and so much against us," she felt her confidence slipping, her voice shaking.

"Honestly?" after she nodded, he gathered both her hands in his before he continued, " 'mnot as worried as maybe I should be, but that's only because-"

"Because of what?"

"Look, I may not be the smartest bloke in the world," he continued in spite of her narrowed eyes, "but I do know this.. if I'm gonna be in over my head, there's no one that I'd want to be there with me, no one I would trust more to make it work."

"Really?"

"I may be a prat sometimes, but I have never lied to you...never will."

"What about Harry?"

"He may lie to you, but I have no control over that," his eyes twinkled while hers rolled at the joke. "You know I love Harry, but it's just not the same, ya know?"

Hermione's heart was hammering in her chest, _no, it is not the same with Harry, not at all. _"How so?" She knew she was playing thick, leading the witness, but she wanted to actually hear his own words, not the ones she thought he might mean.

"It's like Harry is always _out there_ you know? On this "Chosen One" mission, not that he ever asked to be... and it's like _our_ job to keep him from imminent danger and to keep him from letting that stuff go to his head, to keep him "just Harry" sometimes. But with you," he glanced down at their joined hands, "with you it feels like sometimes you're the only one in the world that sees past Harry...to me."

"I feel the same way...I love Harry too, but I could never tell him the things I tell you," it was so close to saying what she really wanted to say, "he never makes me feel this...safe."

"I will do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

"Me too...because I learned something really important this year."

"That Luna is the best Quidditch announcer Hogwarts has ever seen?" Not even her attempt to kick his shin made him stop holding her hands.

"I'm just not half as good at anything as I am when I'm doing it next to you."

For just a moment, she chided herself for saying too much, but the look of pure joy on his face quieted her. _Maybe those signals are not as crossed as I thought. _She was also fairly certain that if she leaned forward just the tiniest bit that he would meet her in the middle for that kiss she had dreamed about since she was fifteen. Yet somehow this was better.

"Thank you," his voice was softer than it had been before.

"For what?"

His thumbs made lazy circles across the backs of her hands, "For not hating me, for letting me take care of you, even if it's just a little."

"Just don't let it get around; I have to keep up my swotty, know-it-all reputation."

Ron's laugh was loud in her ear as he pulled her into a hug. Making him laugh, a real, genuine laugh, was one of the most satisfying feelings; it wasn't as great as resting her head against his chest, and the two combined were making her giddy. She knew that soon she would have to go downstairs, and soon they would have to leave with Harry to find Horcruxes. Soon they would make a world safe enough for all of them, a world safe enough for that kiss she had dreamed of since she was fifteen. But for now she was just Hermione, and he was just Ron, and it was just right.


End file.
